


Sansa Knows

by Walkinthegarden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Baby, F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gay Character marries Straight female, Heir, Heir of Highgarden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinthegarden/pseuds/Walkinthegarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loras thinks Sansa knows about his preferences, but they love each other just the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sansa Knows

Loras Tyrell hates lying to his wife. Sansa is too sweet and beautiful and broken. She deserves to be loved and adored, not that he does not love her, on the contrary, he loves her dearly and cares for her day and night, but he knows he will never be _in_ love with her, and there lies the guilt.

 

He stands on the balcony of their chambers. It’s high up in the castle and overlooks the gardens of Highgarden. Sansa is in the gardens. He remembers how when they first married she rarely left them, too happy to sit among the flowers. She’d told him that it was a welcome change from King’s Landing and reminded her of the greenhouses of the North.

 

She is stunning as always, her beautiful strands of liquid fire gleaming in the sunlight as they fall down her shoulders and back. She looks every bit the Lady of Highgarden, though she isn’t quite yet. He must become Lord first and that will only come to pass on his father’s passing. Loras isn’t eager for that event to happen. He knows his father is probably watching the future Lady Tyrell as well as she sits in her garden surrounded by roses and wild flowers with a blanket of gold and green wrapped around their four month old son.

 

Loras looks away. She deserves so much more then him. She truly is wonderful, soft spoken and kind, just damaged. At night she twists in their shared bed till she awakens, screaming into the hot southern night. Every night he waves away the guards that come running and takes her lovely face in his hands, whispering for her to see _him_ instead of the lions that haunt her dreams. She then falls into sobs, crying for their son. When he is safe and secure in her arms she kisses his cheeks before finally falling asleep with Loras’s arms around her. He then stays awake the rest of the night; neither of them ever sleeping more then half the night.

 

He remembers the night they conceived their son, the only night he dared share her bed as a husband. It was the night of their wedding and she’d been so afraid and nervous that to this day he still feels as if he raped her (though to this day she also insists he didn’t). He had prayed to the gods that night that they had conceived a child, so he’d never have to see her cry again.

 

Three months later they discovered his prayers were answered. Five months after that she birthed their healthy son.

 

Loras isn’t a bad man, even though he feels he is. His parents married for love and the Lord and Lady Stark had grown into love. He will never grow into love with her and he thinks they both deserve better. But he guesses that no one marries for love any more. His eldest brother Willas is in no mood to marry, and his other brother Garlan went missing in the war. He knows his sister is not in love with Joffrey, as Margaery has no taste for boys the same way he has no taste for girls. Marrying Sansa had been a favor to her, reminding him of her first marriage to Renly.

 

_“Loras,” Margaery had whispered one of the many nights they slept in the Lion’s den._

_“What is it sister?” she’d asked, seeing the tears in her eyes. It had startled him greatly, the last time she had cried was when they were told their brother had disappeared._

_“You must marry Sansa,” she begged him. He blinked, startled by her request, no soft words of duty, nothing of her being the key to the North, nothing about power, just plain desperate words._

_“Why?”_

_“I did it once for you…” was all she all she said._

A part of him suspects Sansa knows of his preference. She’s never voiced it aloud but he knows she isn’t stupid enough to not at least suspect something.

 

He freezes when she looks up at him from the gardens. They’ve been married hardly a year but sometimes it feels like an eternity, as if he has known her his whole life. Sometimes he wishes she had been born in Highgarden, close to Margaery and himself and far away from all the sadness that is her homeland or the capital.

 

“Loras!” she calls out to him, a large smile on her face.

 

“I’m coming,” he yells down with a smile. He goes to her, like a child to their best friend. With a smile that looks so odd on his usual sullen face. He runs to her, jumping down stairs and skipping passed servants.

 

He hears them whisper as he runs passed them. They say he’s become a new man since marrying Sansa. They believe the two so very much in love and he never corrects them.

 

When he finally makes it to her he kisses her cheek before pressing his lips to his son’s. Sansa laughs, it’s perfect and musical and he doesn’t feel any more then he does when he’s with Margaery, but it’s family.

 

And that’s good enough for both of them.


End file.
